Serenading Heartbreak

by Ella Fields

  Thoughts of Aiden were pressing in. Thoughts of how long it might be until I heard his voice again. That deep laugh. Seeing that mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. Thoughts that had me fearing if I ever even would.

  Everett chased them away when he stopped by the playground and plucked a dandelion. “Come here.”

  “Cheap ass,” I joked, smiling as he shifted my hair. He slid the stem behind my ear, then carefully maneuvered my blond waves around it.

  “There.” He cupped my cheeks, eyes bright beneath the silver moon. “That fucking smile.”

  I ducked my head, feeling sixteen all over again when my cheeks colored.

  He tipped my chin up, his breaths coming fast, and the hold on my chin tightened as his eyes coasted into mine, crashing with fire. “The way I love you, I can’t even tell you. One look at you, and every muscle in my body just fucking seizes.” Letting go of my chin, his eyes still firm on mine, he collected my hand to lay it on his chest over his pounding heart. “Especially this one.”

  I had no choice but to soak in every rough word and felt them soothe the ache that never seemed to fade.

  When I said nothing and just stared up at him with my hand on his chest and my eyes wet, he shifted my hand to his lips, then dropped it.

  We continued down the street, drifting into the next, and a myriad of complicated, conflicting emotions threatened to strangle me. “You’re not drinking.”

  “I am, sometimes. Only when I need to.”

  His admission flattened, disappointment curling deep.

  “Clover, I won’t lie to you. You know that.”

  “Maybe working and staying at a bar isn’t the best thing you should be doing right now.” That was an understatement.

  He chuckled, coming to a stop once we’d hit the steps to my place. “I do better with temptation close by.” He winked, and I pinched my lips to keep from smiling. He never winked. He wasn’t a winker.

  “If you say so.”

  Reaching up, he brushed his fingers over my cheek, then backed down the path to the street. “I’ve got this, Clover. I swear.”

  I knew it would be a mistake to believe him, but I still did.

  “And Prince stays hot at the plate.” The commentator’s voice rose above the sound of Adela making a smoothie in the kitchen. “Just look at those numbers, Abe.”

  “Ugh.” I clicked the TV off, rolling onto my back to stare up at the living room ceiling.

  “You need to stop watching already. Torture much?” Adela set a banana smoothie down on the coffee table, then fell over my extended legs, sipping her own.

  “I’m done.”

  “Uh-huh,” Adela crooned into her glass.

  “So done.”

  “Told your mom yet?”

  I shifted my legs beneath her, and she shuffled over for me to swing them off the couch. I sat up, dragging my fingers through my hair. “Last week. Dad saw a game on TV, and she called wanting to know why I’d never told them he’d been drafted.”

  “Awkward.”

  I snorted. “No, what was awkward was explaining the model who keeps showing up at his side.” I forced my chest to deflate. “She knew then.”

  “I just can’t believe it. Over a lousy kiss?”

  “It wasn’t just the kiss,” I repeated for the twentieth time, picking up my smoothie.

  “You and Everett have history. What human being doesn’t have history with at least somebody?”

  “Apparently not him.” Though I knew that was a lie, and perhaps, it was Aiden’s history with Darby that made him even more unwilling to stick around and fight things out.

  I eyed Adela’s lack of dance attire. “You’re not teaching today? It’s Saturday.” She’d scored a new job teaching jazz and ballet to toddlers at a small studio in town three days a week.

  “I’m ready to ditch them and try my hand at pole dancing.”

  “They’re adorable.” I tipped my glass back, my taste buds welcoming the sweet flavor. “Go get dressed.”

  She drained her drink, then rolled the glass between her hands. “In five. I need to psych myself up first.”

  I left her to her preparation, heading to the kitchen as I finished my smoothie. It was delicious and all, but I still needed caffeine.

  A bang on the door had me quickly checking my morning hair in the window. I winced, then sighed when Adela made no move to get it and coasted down the hall.

  I was still licking foamy milk from my upper lip when I opened it to find Everett on the top step, hands tucked in his ripped jean pockets and his work shirt on.

  His eyes rounded. “Fucking hell. I’m trying to behave here.”

  I frowned, and then it dawned as I felt my nipples bead behind the thin layer of cotton covering my chest. I tugged at my tank, thankful I was at least wearing pajama pants.

  “Good morning to you too.” I crossed my arms over my boobs. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “On my break. I started at five. Got something to show you, so go get dressed.”

  “What is it?”

  “Clover, just hurry up before you get my ass fired.”

  I left the door open and raced down the hall, hearing him say to Adela, “What are you doing?”

  “Mentally preparing.”

  “To dance with toddlers?”

  She belted out a dry laugh. “Exactly.”

  After dressing in cutoffs and my Stevie Nicks T-shirt, I shoved some socks on, then rammed my feet into my floral Doc Martens.

  Dragging a brush through my hair, I flipped my head forward and gathered it into a messy bun as I made haste to the door. “Bye, Del. Have fun with the babies!”

  “Fuck you,” she sang.

  Everett and I both laughed, and he closed the door as soon as I barreled past.

  “Where are we going?” I asked once we’d hit the sidewalk.

  “My work.”

  With furrowing brows, I struggled to keep up with his fast pace. “Why?”

  “Christ, Clover.” He chuckled, grabbing my hand and hauling me along. “Can’t a guy surprise you ever?”

  “Not much of a fan of surprises.”

  “No shit.”

  I pulled my hand from his, and he snatched it back, kissing it.

  We reached his work ten minutes later. “How long is your break?”

  “Forty-five minutes.”

  I balked. “You would’ve spent more than half just coming to get me.”

  He dragged me around the side of the building. “Worth it, I hope.”

  I came to a stop when I saw the bags of mulch and gardening tools spread out on a yellow picnic blanket. Gloves, a wide brimmed hat, packets of seeds, and potted flowers.

  “Barney needs this garden re-done. I’ve torn out all the weeds and laid it bare, but I thought you’d maybe want to do the rest.”

  It’d been years since I’d planted anything—since I’d left home—and I couldn’t keep my smile from digging into my cheeks to save my life. Or the squeal of excitement that slipped out.

  “I know it’s not your own, but I just thought—”

  “Shut up and hand me that shovel.”

  Everett’s unfettered laugh was abrasive and music to the soul. After helping me get set up, and tearing open the bags of mulch, he plopped the hat atop my head. “I’ve gotta get to work, but I’ll come check in if I can.”

  He wasn’t able to come back until his shift was almost over, and the sight of him, sweat dotting his hairline and causing his shirt to plaster to every dip and mound of his chest, was enough to make me reach for the water bottle he had in his hand.

  I drank greedily, then wiped my mouth before capping and handing it back.

  “Wow.” The word was a hoarse breath as he uncapped the water and surveyed the long row of California poppies I’d planted in front of what would be black-eyed Susans.

  “You didn’t waste any time, Clover.”

  I licked my already drying lips. “No, but I’ll need to come back tomorrow
after work to finish.”

  Barney trudged over, his gait still unsteady after coming off his bike. He whistled. “By golly, when the boy said he needed a favor, I didn’t think I’d be the one benefiting.”

  “It’s been fun.” I slipped the gloves off. “I’ll come back tomorrow if that’s okay? I need to plant the last of the seeds and add more fertilizer.”

  “If that’s okay?” Barney chortled, whacking Everett on the back. “Where’d you find this girl? I had no idea Sabrina and Gloria were hiding a garden fairy in that little flower shop of theirs.”

  Everett scowled, which earned a laugh from me as I stood. “Call me Tinker Bell, and we’ll need to have words.”

  Barney wheezed out a laugh, then waved us off, heading back inside the hardware store. “Hurry up, boy. We’ve got some crates with your name on them waiting to be unloaded before you leave.”

  Everett flicked his fingers over his head, indicating he’d be a minute. “Let me buy you lunch?”

  I snorted. “Ah, no.”

  His lips parted, large shoulders dropping, and I smacked his chest with a glove. “It’s after three, so I’ll be buying you an early dinner.”

  His relieved smile colored my world, turning everything a shade lighter.

  After showering, I sent Everett a text saying I’d meet him at his place, and that we’d eat at the bar.

  He wasn’t one for texting, and his replies were usually short and clipped, which never failed to make me laugh.

  “You can’t just respond with ‘k’.”

  “Why not?” He dragged a fry through a puddle of ketchup, then popped it inside his mouth.

  “It’s not proper text etiquette.”

  He licked his lips, and my eyes dropped to them as he said, “Etiquette?”

  It wasn’t right for a word to sound so good. “Yup. It’s rude. If someone makes the effort to reach out and ask you a question about your day, or hell, sends you a text about their shitty day, you can’t simply say, ‘that sucks,’ or ‘k,’ or ‘fine.’”

  That glint in his eyes didn’t dissipate. “Noted. When are you done with school?”

  “Four-year degree. Two almost down, two to go.”

  Everett munched on more fries, his fingers tapping out a beat on the table. “You still want your own flower shop?”

  “Or farm, I haven’t decided.”

  “A farm would be wicked.”

  I smiled in agreement, barely daring to imagine it, when a middle-age guy, maybe older, in a crisp suit approached our booth. “You’re not playing tonight?”

  Everett took a bite out of another fry, offering a brief look at the stranger who was apparently not a stranger to him. “You’re back.”

  The man smiled, then held out his hand to me. “Jack Keen. Keen Records.”

  My fry fell from my fingers, and I hastily scrubbed my palm over my cutoffs before shaking his hand. “Stevie.”

  His grin was all business but beautiful nonetheless. “Wonder?”

  “Nicks.” Everett took a sip of water, eyeing him over the rim of the glass.

  “Even better,” Jack said, gently releasing my hand.

  A smile bloomed, but it wobbled when I saw the tightness in Everett’s jaw. He was uncomfortable, at the very least.

  “Have you thought about my offer?”

  “Some.” Everett lowered his glass. “Been a little busy.”

  Jack threw his gaze at me, giving me a quick once-over. “I see.”

  “You’re interested in signing him?” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut a second longer.

  Everett sighed.

  “Interested is putting it mildly. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him, Stevie.” Jack shot me that devilish grin, then rapped his knuckles on the table, a business card sliding from between his fingers. “I’ll be in the area another few days. Call me, we’ll chat.”

  Everett didn’t so much as nod, but his eyes dropped to the card, where they remained as Jack Keen waltzed past the bar.

  Zoe looked from his retreating back to Everett and did a double take.

  I shrugged when she gave me a questioning tilt of her head, then slid the metallic blue and black embossed card over to take a better look. “You don’t want to.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I don’t want that lifestyle anymore, Clover.”

  “But you want the music.” I tucked the card inside my purse, and he watched, lips rolling over one another. “Judging by the gleam in that shark’s eyes, you could have whatever you want.” I laughed, feeling a little lightheaded, then reached across the table to squeeze his hands. “On your terms.”

  “I just want you, my guitar, and some people to listen. That’s it.”

  I nodded. “I get that. But just… at least think about it. You could do this for a living. A real, money in the bank, buy your own house and cars, not have to worry about Zoe’s kids running up and down the stairs outside your apartment door, living.”

  His lips twitched. “They’re not so bad.”

  “That’s not what the bags underneath your eyes said when you told me they were trying to ride serving trays down the stairs.”

  He huffed out what would’ve been a laugh, but then swiped a palm down his face. “Let’s leave it for tonight.” His eyes teased. “’Kay?”

  I snickered. “Fine.”

  He did laugh then, and we finished our food.

  My attention stayed glued to my fries, but it was hard to eat, to think about anything other than the offer that could change Everett’s life for the better.

  Yet I was proud, so fucking proud of his ability to stare temptation in the face and say no because he didn’t like the person he thought it’d make him become again. That didn’t change the fact it was still an opportunity of a lifetime. It was everything they’d ever worked for.

  And then the other reason hit me. “The band.”

  Everett exhaled a loud gust of air. “That too. Come on.” He pushed his plate away, grabbing my purse.

  I followed him upstairs, wondering how the rest of the band might take it if Everett accepted whatever deal this Jack guy might offer. I’d heard Hendrix was working at the local golf club and playing lifeguard on the weekends. Graham was studying at the local community college, and Dale was apparently trying to make it with his new YouTube channel. I had no idea what New Guy was doing.

  Regardless of them knowing he needed it, it’d been a huge blow to the band, Mom had said when I’d asked how they’d taken Everett just walking away.

  This would be yet another blow. One they might never recover from.

  “Have you spoken to them lately?” I asked once we’d reached his room.

  He shut the door, flicking the lock and tossing his keys onto his nightstand with my purse. “A bit. Mainly Hendrix. He sounds glad I’m doing well, not exactly ecstatic that I’m here with you, but he’s not mad. Apparently, they’re still playing at home when he can get them all together.”

  “He’s singing?”

  “Yeah,” Everett said. “He’s good, more pop-punk. Crowd would love it.”

  “Hmm.” I flopped back onto his bed, bouncing a little. “I guess he is.”

  He grabbed my ankle, plucking my boots and socks off, then took a seat on the bed, shifting my feet to his lap.

  I purred, actually purred, when he began rubbing them. “That’s kind of gross, but it’s so good I don’t ever want you to stop.”

  A raspy chuckle flooded the room, knuckles kneading the flesh below my right foot. “I suppose you could say they’re pissed. They truly believed we’d eventually make it, but being that we’re friends, and they saw how messed up it made me, I think they’re struggling with how to feel.”

  “Ha.” I stabbed a finger at him. “They believed for good reason.” That made me wonder, though. “Seriously, have you ever believed you guys were good enough?”

  He swapped to my left foot. “Once upon a time, and we could’ve been, if I had taken it more seriously.”

  “The
way you do when you play here.”

  “I’m just being me here.”

  “Well, that’s what your new mate downstairs wanted.” I groaned when his thumbs pressed beneath my toes.

  “Shit.” He groaned too. “Don’t. Sounds like that make me desperate to be as deep as I can get inside you.”

  “Sorry.” Yet my voice betrayed me as my body coiled tight. I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “Where’s the bus now?”

  “I think they’ve sold it.”

  I never would’ve expected that to sadden me, but it did. “Can I ask you something?”

  “We’ve been over this. Just ask.”

  My tongue poked my cheek as I hesitated. “I know, but it’s probably not something you want to talk about.”

  The bed dipped when he released my foot and came to lie down beside me. “Ask.”

  I fell back, rolling my head to face him. “Have you seen or heard from your parents since the first time you came back?”

  “No.” So carefully blank, his expression didn’t change.

  Still, my hands itched to comfort. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” His teeth slid over his lip, the tiny chip in the front right one snagging my attention. “It’s what I wanted, what I prefer, Clover.”

  Tickling fingers danced over the skin of my palm, and then interlaced with mine. “But they were better before…”

  “Before Mason died?” His pitch deepened and lowered. “Yeah, but like I told you, nothing exceptional.”

  “I think being an exceptional parent would be kind of hard.”

  His top lip curved, lashes bobbing with his shifting eyes. “Your parents are exceptional.”

  “They’re not perfect,” I reminded him, “but they are kind of great.”

  “You don’t need to be perfect to be exceptional.” His words were but a low rasp, and it seemed like our faces had drifted closer. “In fact, the most brilliant people on earth are brilliant because of their imperfections.”

  It hit me like a rock slamming into my chest, robbing me of breath. I felt the dam begin to break, emotion coating my tongue. “Why was it so easy for you to leave me?”

  His eyes flickered with pain, and his hand met the side of my face. “You thought it was easy?”

  Unable to, I didn’t answer.